


The Curious Case of Veggie Patch Sabotage

by whimsicalwombat



Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: Gen, The Blacklist Secret Santa fic 2019, gardens and turtles and toddlers and fluff oh my!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:28:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21912952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whimsicalwombat/pseuds/whimsicalwombat
Summary: Something curious is afoot in Samar's garden when strawberries start disappearing and lettuce leaves start bearing nibble marks. Samar blames Turbo. Aram blames bugs....Neither of them are quite on the right track.Written for theythinkimabitch over on tumblr for the 2019 Blacklist Secret Santa! Happy Holidays, folks!
Relationships: Aram Mojtabai/Samar Navabi
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	The Curious Case of Veggie Patch Sabotage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theythinkimabitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theythinkimabitch/gifts).



**_TUESDAY..._**

Samar was _outraged._

Ok ok, so _maybe_ 'outraged' was a little strong. But at the very least, she was decidedly unimpressed fused with a dash of annoyed, a sprinkling of peeved, and the _faintest_ hint of trying _desperately_ not to be amused. 

Samar pursed her lips, keeping a single, surveilling eye on the door to Leila's room behind which, it was Aram's night for bedtime story duty with their little girl. The story time giggles had fallen quiet, and so too had the sleepy, miserable whines at even the idea of being left alone snuggled amongst her stuffed animals; that meant any minute now, Aram would emerge, creeping out past the door and gently pressing it closed without a sound as they had both perfected over the last few years. 

And then... Samar would pounce. 

She watched. And she waited... And then as that hand carved door with its crisp white paint slowly pushed its way open, Samar rose from the couch, standing expectantly with hands on hips. Aram slipped through the door, letting out the sort of slow, deep breath that seemed far more appropriate for a tight rope walker or some kind of stuntman before finally, pressing it softly closed behind him. He paused for a moment, listening for any sound of protest from within, but none came... And Aram's eyes lit up with victory. 

He looked up, his gaze scanning across the living area in an instant in search for her. A wide, affectionate smile stretched from ear to ear across his face at the mere sight of her standing there that made it impossible to be truly mad at him, but Samar stubbornly held her neutral pose.

'We need to talk about your turtle,' she announced. Aram did a double take, glancing back at her with eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. He hesitated, moving cautiously back across the room towards her with his shoulders bracing for who-knew-what.   
'No good conversation ever started that way,' he warily replied, 'but, uh, ok.' 

The gap between them steadily closed, and Aram reached out to her. A single, gentle hand ran softly along her arm and then settled, squeezing her fingertips. 

Samar steeled herself. She clenched her jaw. She had to _look_ serious about this, no matter how ridiculous she was about to sound or how much his fingertips around hers filled her with all things deliciously warm and fuzzy. 

This was serious. No, worse yet, this was a _travesty._

Her garden was her pride and joy. No matter how small it was, that patch of vivid greenery that she had grown from scratch in the expanse of empty dirt and crumpled brown leaves that had originally been at the back of their townhouse, was _flourishing_ under her care. 

Or at least, it _had_ been flourishing. 

...Until she had started discovering small leaves with even smaller bite marks, and pieces of fruit pulled off and smooshed in the soil. 

There was sabotage afoot, and Samar was _determined_ in her hunt for the culprit. 

'Turbo's been stealing from my vegetable garden,' she declared. 

Aram did a double take –his second in barely as minutes- but this time, his eyes crinkled with amusement. 

'I'm sorry,' he spluttered, trying to hold in the laugh. 'He _what?'_

Samar narrowed her eyes, leaning into Full Glower Mode –the perfect contradiction to her hand still _quite_ content in his. 

'When you take him outside for _'a little exercise'_ and let him walk through the plants?' She prompted. 'I know you do it.' 

...Ok, so _maybe_ the fact that Aram liked to take his turtle for short walks around the garden wasn't _actually_ a secret, but he liked to _think_ it was and Samar, well... Was happy to let him. 

_Usually._

Aram hesitated. He blinked, tilting his head and furrowing his brow in the sort of _oh_ so innocent confusion that nobody ever in their right mind would fall for. 

'He needs his exercise,' Aram quickly gave in and began to protest. 'Not to mention, a change in scenery from his tank. And he likes the garden and the sunshine!' Samar let out a snort.   
'I think what he really likes is the strawberries,' she chortled back.   
'Turbo would never,' Aram countered. The indignation crept into his voice more and more with every word, and his brow knitted in a tight frown. 'He likes strawberries, but he knows better than to steal from the garden.' 

Samar paused. She blinked, trying –and _failing-_ not to laugh. 

But no matter how much she loved Turbo, and no matter how adorable her husband was in defence of his pet, there were some lines in their marriage that should never be crossed. If he couldn't even keep that turtle out of her garden patch, then nothing was sacred. 

And they couldn't have _that._

'Aram,' Samar chortled back. 'He's a _turtle.'_ Aram's bottom lip popped out with a pout that could rival their toddler's. His eyes darted back and forth between her and the tank across the room, as if fighting the instinct to scuttle over and protectively clutch the beloved, tiny reptile to his chest.   
'So?' He whined. 

Samar let out a slow, deep sigh, shaking her head in affectionate exasperation. 

God, it was _impossible_ to be mad at him. 

She leaned in, dotting a quick kiss to the soft stubble of his jaw, as she gently replied;   
'Can you please just keep him on the grass or something, and not in the vegetable garden?' 

/*/*/*/* 

**_FRIDAY..._**

The gentle sunshine of an afternoon fading slowly into evening danced ever pleasantly along her bare arms, just as the sky swirled with the pinks and oranges of early sundown. Samar rose from the vine like mess of cherry tomatoes at the garden bed's edge and dusted the sprinkling of dirt from her shorts. Beside her, Leila mimicked the gesture in typical, dramatic toddler clumsiness, and the little girl beamed up at her. The small, wicker basket of their pickings swung happily from Samar fingertips and she panned her gaze across the patch, nodding to herself in satisfaction. 

...And then she stopped. Her gaze settled on the budding bunches of leaves growing busily into lettuce. Off to one side of their grouping, two leaves lay crumpled in the dirt, the tiniest of nibble marks forming indents in their edges. 

Samar frowned. 

That was the last straw. 

She turned her head, glancing back over her shoulder at the house just feet away. 

'Aram,' she called out.   
'Yeah?' His voice sailed through the air back to her. Samar waited a moment; the sound of footsteps scuttling quickly through the townhouse grew louder, echoing in her ears until Aram poked his head around the back door, gazing curiously out at her.   
'Look,' Samar began. She held out one hand, pointing down at the wounded lettuce leaves. 

Aram furrowed his brow. He darted through the door and across the grass towards her, glancing down at the garden bed. 

'Ok, that was _definitely_ not Turbo,' he said quickly. Aram looked up again, meeting her gaze, and Samar crossed her arms.   
'Uh huh.' She narrowed her eyes; her lips pursed together with an attempt at a suspicious, irritable scowl that failed, instead twitching at the corners with tell-tale affection that was impossible to deny. 

Honestly, the fruit and vegetables that Turbo ate as treats more often than not came from the batch picked out of the garden anyway. 

But, it was the _principle_ of the general subterfuge that mattered. 

'I swear,' Aram protested. 'I haven't taken him outside since you asked me to keep him out of the garden three days ago.' Samar raised a single, disbelieving eyebrow, pointing down at the lettuce once again, but Aram simply shook his head, defiant. 'Maybe you've got bugs or something,' he suggested instead. 

Samar gaped. 

Bugs? _Really?_ In _her_ garden? 

How... _Dare_ he suggest such a thing. 

'There are no slugs, snails, or _any_ other lettuce eating creepy crawlies in my garden,' she scoffed back. Aram's eyes crinkled with affectionate amusement.   
'Samar,' he chuckled. 'It's a _garden.'_ This time, Samar actually _did_ scowl, but that did nothing to perturb Aram. 'Bugs _live_ in gardens.'   
'Not enough to do this amount of damage,' Samar countered, 'I would notice that.' 

_Honestly._ For someone so intelligent, it was astounding how little the man in front of her knew about gardening. Bugs could bite, but they weren't exactly inclined to pull entire leaves off plants, no matter how small they were. 

'Ok, then...' Aram trailed off, letting out a sigh as he shrugged his shoulders. 'Maybe Leila ate them.' Samar raised that single, disbelieving eyebrow again.   
'Leila?'   
'Yeah.'   
'Aram, she's three.' Samar began, shooting him a doubtful look. 'She's never out here unsupervised.' For a moment, she couldn't help but laugh skeptically. 'I think we would notice if our toddler was eating out of the dirt.' 

/*/*/*/* 

**_SATURDAY..._**

There was something delightful about a summer's day that wasn't too hot, where one could laze around happily in the backyard with family and pets. 

There was no set task to complete, or games with any specific rules to follow. Samar pottered around, tending to her plants or plucking the occasional strawberry, tomato, or blueberry as she happened to spot them, and setting them in her wicker basket next to the herb planter. Aram sat at the small, outdoor table, tinkering happily with the robot he liked to work on during weekends –which currently bleated out his specially prepared summer Spotify playlist through tinny speakers that connected to his phone via bluetooth. Turbo roamed freely –albeit, within the realm of _everyone's_ supervision- while Leila bounced back and forth between everyone, gleefully alternating between immersing herself in each of their hobbies as best as her limited, toddler attention span would allow, twirling barefoot in the grass, and building castles in her small sandpit. 

It was as blissful as it was casual. Samar cast her gaze around the small yard; her eyes crinkled with deep affection and a soft smile lit her face at Leila sitting on Aram's knee. The gazes of both father and daughter focused intently on the quirky, dancing bot before them. Matching grins lit both their faces, and as the robot kept bopping to the crackly tunes spitting out from its tiny speakers, so too did father and daughter bop along together in their seat in perfect synchronisation. 

Sometimes, it was hard to tell who Leila took after most, but in such moments, it definitely appeared to be Aram. 

The song came to its end and the robot fell still once more. Aram reached in with his screwdriver, tweaking something or rather that only he understood. Leila wriggled free and slide happily off his knee, pausing only to snuggle playfully into his shoulder as Aram dotted an affectionate kiss to the top of her mess of dark curls. 

The little girl raced across the grass, twirling around and around again and giggling in delight. 

Samar let out a soft laugh, watching her go for a moment. Then she turned her head again, glancing down at the herb planter box. 

...Or rather, glancing down at the basket _beside_ the herb planter box. 

Samar did a double take, staring into the basket with her lips pursed and her brow suddenly furrowing in annoyance. 

'Ok, where is he?' Samar sighed, glancing up again and locking her gaze on Aram. 'I picked six strawberries when we came out here-' she gestured, pointedly, to the basket as Aram raised a single, puzzled eyebrow '-now there are only four.' 

Aram scrambled to his feet. 

'I put him over there,' he said quickly, pointing towards the dirt patch on the opposite side of the grass. 'And Turbo doesn't move that fast.' 

Samar followed the gesture with her eyes. Sure enough, the tiny reptile remained barely a foot from where Aram had left him, sprawled contentedly between a rock and a soft pile of leaves. 

She frowned. Aram was right; there was no way Turbo could have moved to the basket, chomped his way through two whole strawberries, and then shuffled all the way back again that quickly. 

_Hmmm...._

'Well... It wasn't Leila,' Samar thought aloud. 'I haven't seen her with a strawberry, have you?'   
'...No.' Aram shook his head quickly, then frowned, puzzled. 'Huh.' He glanced down at the basket, and then the garden bed in turn. 'I don't see any bugs out here either.' 

They glanced back at one another, both of them dumbfounded. 

And then Aram paused. His eyes darted off to one side, as if in thought... And then a curious smirk began to tug at the corners of his lips. 

'I might have an idea,' he quietly began. Samar raised a single, curious eyebrow.   
'I'm listening,' she mused back. Aram's face lit up and he leaned in, lowering his voice.   
'You and I both know she's her mother's daughter,' he whispered, all too conspiratorially. Samar eyed him for a moment.   
'What's _that_ supposed to mean?' She quipped back. Aram simply tilted his head, staring back at her with the smirk growing ever wider, and Samar sheepishly bowed her head. 'Ok, fair,' she conceded. She let out a sigh of affectionate exasperation, peering discreetly over his shoulder at the little girl happily twirling around on the grass behind him. 'But there's not a drop of fruit juice on her.' 

Aram's eyes darted sideways in thought. And then he turned, glancing curiously back at their little girl. 

'Leila?' Aram called back to her. She looked up in an instant, flashing them both a grin. 'Mama and I are just going to go over there for a second, ok?' He added, gesturing back with his thumb towards the narrow path that ran from the garden around and along the side of the house. 'Can you watch Turbo for me?' 

Leila bobbed her head in agreement, sending her dark, curly pigtails bouncing. 

'Ok Baba,' she burbled back. 

Samar narrowed her eyes, curious as Aram took her hand and tugged her along. Together, they scuttled down the path until they were _just_ past the corner... And then Aram stopped, poking his head ever so slightly around the wall to peer back through the leaves of the tall pot plant hiding them from view. 

'What are you thinking?' She asked quietly.   
'Just watch,' Aram mused back. 'Humour me.' Samar raised a skeptical eyebrow, but opted not to protest. She pushed in closer to his side and almost instinctively, his arm wrapped loosely around her waist, as both of them watched on through the leaves. 

It took a moment. Leila twirled around and around, finding what seemed to be infinite delight in in dizzying herself until she flopped into the grass, giggling hysterically. Each time, she clambered gleefully back to her feet, scampered about the small yard, and then started all over again, until finally... The little girl paused. Her gleeful smile turned contemplative and she glanced curiously around the garden for a moment. Then she began to move, powering forwards with strides that seemed far too purposeful for a three year old and far more like her mother on a mission. She made quick work of crossing the grass towards the basket, the cheeky grin spreading from ear to ear. 

Leila glanced around once more, then reached in, quickly plucking a strawberry from the basket and slipping it into her pocket. Barely a nanosecond later, she skipped eagerly back across the grass, twirling about once more as if she had never stopped at all. 

Samar let out a low whistle under her breath. 

'You know what this means, right?' She murmured, shaking her head in disbelief. Still, both their eyes focused on watching the scene in front of them unfold.   
'We need to have a talk with our three year old about sneakiness?' Aram quietly –and _drily-_ replied.   
'Well, there's that,' Samar began. Again, and even as the words were still leaving her lips, Leila stopped her twirling. With a gleeful grin, the little girl reached into her pocket, slipping out the strawberry and chomping it down in a flash. Ever the operative's daughter, barely a shred of sweet, red, juicy evidence lingered on her chin and Leila darted forwards, shifting her attention to Turbo like the textbook definition of pure, utter innocence. Samar turned her head, shooting Aram a wry smile; 'but the next time anyone tries to tell me that toddlers can't eat without making a mess, I'm going to have to insist that we clearly have some kind of a prodigy on our hands.' 

Aram's face lit up with a wide grin. He tilted his head to her, chuckling to himself and dotting a soft kiss to her cheek as he replied;   
'That's my girl.' 


End file.
